


Backseat, Windows Up

by itsthedetails



Category: Jonas Brothers
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-29
Updated: 2011-03-29
Packaged: 2017-10-24 03:53:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/258680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsthedetails/pseuds/itsthedetails
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens when Denise tweets about Joe's G wagon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Backseat, Windows Up

Her skin always tastes like blackberries, which Joe knows is impossible, but still, since the first time he tasted her skin when he was sixteen, he’s always thought it tasted like blackberries.

Joe breathes heavy in the stifling closeness of the backseat. He’s always thought his car had plenty of space, but pressed against mom, her scent filling his head makes it feel like they are in a tiny sports car. He loves meeting her here though, loves how she calls or texts because she’s the one that needs him now. He loves pulling into the lot behind the condemned theater and seeing her waiting for him. He loves crawling into the backseat where they can so easily be caught despite the deserted parking lot and tinted windows. Most of all he loves how much he gets off on meeting her like this.

He mouths against her bare shoulder and moans. He wants to lick every inch of her. He shifts in the confining space of the backseat of his car and pulls the soft, light fabric of her dress over her head. She’s beautiful; more beautiful than any other girl he’s ever been with. Her skin is flushed rosy pink and her dark hair curls wildly around her face. Just looking at her like this makes his breath catch in his chest.

His palms rest on her waist, his thumbs gently stroking her belly. She’s watching him closely, waiting for him to act.

He knows what they do is so very wrong; she’s his mom and they shouldn’t be doing this, but he’s always needed her in a different way than his brothers did. Besides, Mom’s the one that comes to him now.

He leans down to kiss along the lacy edge of her bra. Her breasts are round and soft. He sucks lightly, making her giggle. He loves when he can do that to her, make her sound like she’s a teenager again. His hands skim up behind her, and he pops the clasp of her bra. He pulls it away and immediately drops his head to suck on her nipple. A sigh shudders through her body, like this is exactly what she’s been waiting for. He teases the hard little nub with his teeth and then moves to the other.

God, he loves this. The way that just this can make him so hard he’s ready to come in his jeans. No other woman can do this to him. She arches her back and slides further back on the seat so she can spread her legs for him.

Saliva floods in his mouth and he blindly slides back to kneel in the footwell. Her panties are purple, but he can see the darkened spot between her legs were she’s already so wet for him. He pulls them down over her legs and he’s assaulted by her smell.

He shoves his pants down around his ankles, knowing if he doesn’t now, he’ll wind up coming in them. He traces the tip of his finger over her clit, and moans impatiently. Lowering his head, he presses his tongue into her. His dick jerks in his shorts, and he groans against her heated flesh. He presses two fingers into her folds, holding her open so he can tongue her deeper. He can feel the sweat rolling down his back as he laps at her. His face is slick with her wetness, and he presses his nose against her clit. He shifts one of his fingers in next his tongue to get deeper inside of her.

She clenches down around his finger and her whole body shakes. She’s moaning, but only when she clutches at his shoulder does he realize she is trying to get his attention. She’s saying his name over and over, “Joe, please. Now, Joe.”

He shoves his boxers down around his thighs and gets a knee up on the backseat between her legs. It won’t last long. It never does when they meet like this, the possibility of getting caught combined with _her_ always leaves him teetering on edge. He wraps his hand around the base of his dick and guides himself into her. He’s never not amazed by how she feels around him. His hips jerk forward, thrusting without any sort of rhythm. She lifts her legs up around his waist pulling him deeper. He’s so damn hot, his sweaty palm can barely grip the back of the seat to give him the leverage he needs to thrust hard and deep like he wants.

His calf is cramping and he’s panting hard, but then his whole body clenches and he spills hot and wet inside his mom. His hips roll in small, flowing thrusts and he makes a low humming noise with each pulse until he’s wrung out and collapsing over her. She brushes her fingers through his damp hair, murmuring softly, “My good boy.”

***

He looks at his @reply stream, confusion creasing his brow. “Joe… did Frankie leave his lunch box in your G wagon?” It’s not that Frankie’s lunch box couldn’t be in his car, it’s just Frankie hasn’t ridden in it in over a month. He checks the car anyway, and when he looks in the backseat he doesn’t find a lunch box, but he does find mom’s purple panties half under the passenger side front seat.

He grins to himself, remembering that day last week and wonders if mom purposely left them behind and waited until just the right moment to have him find them.

He DMs her back because there is no way he can tweet her publically with where his mind is right now and stuffs the purple panties into his pocket.

***

The following week, when he sees mom has tweeted again about Frankie’s lunch box in his car he doesn’t even click to see the twitpic of Frankie’s actual lunch box. He flips off the TV and heads down to his car. When he pulls into the deserted parking lot, Mom’s car is already there. She’s leaning against the passenger side and the light breeze is making her dress flutter around her knees. Before he can even cut the engine she climbs into the back seat, and Joe follows in behind her. They are going to have to come up with some other code, because if mom keeps tweeting about Frankie’s lunch box eventually someone is going to figure them out. That’s not something he can worry about now, though, because mom is beckoning to him. He pulls the door closed behind him and reaches out to kiss her.


End file.
